If You Forget Me
by drcjsnider
Summary: Draco comforts Hermione after an Order mission goes horribly wrong.


Title: If You Forget Me  
Rating: PG-13  
Disclaimer: All the characters, most of settings, and lots of other things belong to JK Rowlings. The title, some of the words, and the inspiration for the end of the story came from Pablo Neruda's poem, "If You Forget Me."  
Warnings: Mention of attempted rape. Language.  
Summary: After a mission gone bad, Draco tries to help Hermione recover.  
Notes: This story is set a couple of years after HBP and ignores DH. The war is ongoing and Draco is fighting on the side of the Order. The requestor wanted "heart wrenching love, the kind that hurts so good." I'm not sure this story accomplishes that, but I tried. Big thanks to my beta Kazfeist, who always comes through for me!

"Where the fuck is she?" Draco demanded, storming into the kitchen of the Burrow with Ron Weasley on his heels.

No one moved, no one answered. Fred, who sat at the table with his head buried in his arms, flinched as the door slammed shut.

Harry stood at the counter with a cup of tea clenched in his hands. He looked beyond Draco to Ron, "It was her idea, mate. I swear I tried to talk her out of it, but-"

Before Harry could finish his sentence, Draco had grabbed his collar and pushed him back against the sink. The cup of tea crashed to ground. "You are a dead man, Potter. I am going to rip your fucking lungs out the Muggle way and then shove them down your throat with the business end of my wand."

Looking crushed, Harry did not even bother trying to shrug Draco off. George moved to separate them just as Molly walked into the kitchen.

Draco released Harry and turned to her, "Where is she?" he asked again.

Molly's eyes were red and full of tears. She looked tired and years older than she had just that morning. "Upstairs in her room; Ginny is with her."

Draco nodded and stalked out of the kitchen, his shoulder knocking roughly into Harry as he left.

He was up the stairs in a flash, but slowed as he neared the bedroom. He stopped at the doorway and peered into the room. Hermione was curled up in bed, her face turned toward the wall. Ginny sat next to her, stroking her hair. As Draco stood there silently, Ginny looked up at him. She bit her lip and tears began to slide down her face. She rose, crossed the room, and gave him a quick hug before heading downstairs.

Draco took Ginny's spot on the bed and slowly began to rub Hermione's back. After several minutes, Hermione's shoulders began to shake. "Baby," he whispered, his voice cracking with emotion.

Hermione began to sob. Draco gently turned her toward him, but couldn't prevent his gasp of shock as he saw her swollen black eye and split lip. He wanted to retch, he wanted to kill the bastard that had done this to her, he wanted to take her away from the war and hide her some place where no one could ever hurt her again. Instead, he lay down next to her in bed and gathered her into his arms. Hermione's tears continued to fall, but she muffled her cries in Draco's robes.

They lay like that for hours. Draco was vaguely aware of people coming to the door and looking in, but no one disturbed them. Hermione eventually drifted into a dreamless sleep, when she awoke it was nearing dusk.

"Draco," she whispered.

"What, baby?"

"I want to take a shower, but don't want to be up here all alone."

Draco's heart hurt for his fearless Gryffindor. He had never seen her anything other than strong-willed, independent, and confident. "Do you want me to go get Ginny?" he asked softly.

He felt Hermione shake her head. "Would you mind sitting in the hall, while I'm washing up?" she asked quietly.

"Of course not, baby," he replied, slowly releasing her. "Would you like to me fix your lip and your eye before you get under the water?"

Hermione looked into his face for the first time since he had returned to the Burrow. Her eyes were dull in a way he had never seen them before; he felt sick at the sight of it. She shook her head. "I'm going to let it heal naturally," she told him. "It will be a good reminder that I'm not as smart as I think I am."

Draco clenched his teeth, but managed to keep his voice calm. "None of this is your fault, Hermione. No one could have predicted that Death Eater's reaction to having you within arm's reach. Besides, Potter should never have agreed to use you as a decoy," he spat, starting to get angry again.

Hermione pushed herself up to a sitting position. "Don't you dare blame Harry for any of this! It was all me. I was just so damn positive that the shielding spells Fred and I developed to counter Unforgivables would work that I never even considered the Death Eaters might actually use brute force instead of magic. If I had been just a little more modest, a little less cock-sure of my abilities, this never would have happened."

"I refused to listen to you blame yourself," Draco warned her. "Besides, I am sure that Weasley had a role in devising this scheme." Fred and Hermione had been teamed up for the last ten months doing research and working together during search and destroy missions. They fed off each other's ideas in a way that had been both fascinating and scary for the other members of the Order to observe. No one could deny, however, the amazing results of their co-operation. At least, it had been amazing until today's disaster.

A couple of tears coursed down Hermione's cheeks and she took a shaky breath before replying. "It was Fred who pulled him off me, you know? The bastard had torn open my blouse and had his pants down. I was in and out of consciousness and had no idea where my wand was. If Fred had gotten there just a couple of minutes later-" Hermione covered her face with her hands and began to softly cry again.

Draco gathered her in his arms and began to rock her back and forth, murmuring over and over, "Shush, baby. It's going to be okay. Shush."

After Hermione had calmed down and gathered her towel, shampoo, and dressing gown, she went into the bathroom, leaving the door open just a crack.

Draco sat on the floor, leaning up against the wall, and listening to the running water. Never in the first two decades of his life would he have pictured himself in this situation – living in Arthur Weasley's home, serving as a valued member of the Order of the Phoenix, and now hopelessly in love with the bossy, know-it-all Hermione Granger. Not that he had ever planned to act on his feelings for her. Fuck, he hadn't even figured out it was love until earlier today when he'd heard about the attack. And now that he knew that the ache in his heart when he thought about her was love, there was no bloody way he was going to risk their friendship on the mere possibility of something more.

Any hint of romance between Draco Malfoy and Hermione Granger was out of the question. Logically, even their friendship didn't make a damn bit of sense. They were almost polar opposites. She was warm - he was cold, she open - he cut himself off from everyone, she liked to help people - he liked to ridicule them. Yet somehow, after two years of being in the Order, Draco and Hermione had developed a remarkable bond. It was different than her relationship with Harry and Ron, and he didn't know how to describe it without sounding like a wanker, but she had become his emotional base. She made him acknowledge feelings that he typically left buried - like compassion and sympathy, she helped him channel his rage away from violent outbursts, and although she scolded him for taunting the morons they had to work with day in and day out - he knew she secretly got a kick out of his witty insults.

Draco had asked her once what the fuck she got from him that she couldn't get from her other friends, but she had just smiled and replied that he was her daily reality check. He figured that meant she knew, no matter what, he would give it to her straight. No 'Somewhere Over the Rainbow', 'The Sun will Come Out Tomorrow', 'Don't Worry - Be Happy' medley would ever spring from Draco's lips. He wouldn't feed Hermione any feel good lies just to make her happy. He wouldn't bullshit her because, Merlin knew, the bullshit in the Order was already waist-high without him adding to it. Of course, his inability to sugar-coat reality made his current situation intolerable. After all, the last thing Hermione wanted to hear was just how idiotic she and Fred had been in approaching Death Eaters without backup.

He looked up as Hermione stepped out of the loo. She was wrapped in an old dressing gown and her hair hung in wet tangles her back. Her face was still pale and her eye looked even worse than it had hours ago. "You feel better?" he asked, rising to his feet.

She nodded.

"Good, because you look like shite."

"Merlin's balls, Malfoy!" Ron growled as he climbed the stairs toward them. "Lay off her. She's been through enough today without having to listen to your mouth, too."

Hermione gave her redheaded friend a watery smile. "Hey, Ron."

"Hey, you," he stated quietly, wrapping his arms around her.

Draco caught her eyes over Ron's shoulder and made a face before heading downstairs.

Less than thirty minutes later, Hermione and Ron entered the packed kitchen. In addition to the regular crowd of Mr. and Mrs Weasley, the twins, Harry, Ginny, and Draco, there was also Lupin, Tonks, McGonagall, Hagrid, and Moody. Everyone stopped talking when Hermione entered the room. Tonks, McGonagall, and Hagrid jumped up to give her hugs, Lupin smiled kindly at her before continuing his conversation with Mr. Wealsey, and Moody barked out, "Constant vigilance, Granger. Next time, remember, constant vigilance!"

As Hermione brushed past Draco to take a seat at the table, he whispered in her ear, "Just give me a nod and I'll Vanish his fake leg forever."

Hermione responded with a small, strained smile, before sitting down between Tonks and Ginny. It looked to Draco as if she was explaining what had happened this afternoon to Tonks. She looked better since getting dressed, less apprehensive, less timid, but every now and then, when she thought no one was looking, her mask would slip, and she'd momentarily look tired and scared again. Draco wished he were sitting close enough to grab her hand and give it a reassuring squeeze.

As much as Draco wanted to comfort Hermione, he also wanted to hex Fred. The redhead prankster sat across from Hermione and had charmed his fork into doing back flips and summersaults in an effort to make Hermione laugh. Draco should have known that the oldest twin did not have the ability to actually comfort someone. The git needed to learn that laughter did not equal peace of mind.

Draco had been so busy contemplating ways to harass Fred that he had not paid attention to the conversation at the table until he noticed that everyone had gone silent and kept looking back and forth between Mad Eye and Hermione. Draco immediately focused on the exchange taking place in front of him.

"The only problem with today was lack of backup," Moody pontificated. "If you had actually run your idea past someone with experience instead of going off half-cocked, you would have been much more successful. Next time, we'll put a bit more planning…"

"Next time?!" Draco interrupted angrily. "There isn't going to be a next time. Hermione is not going to expose herself to that type of danger again."

"Draco—" Hermione stated faintly.

"No!" he growled, whipping his head around to look at her. "What if the _next _Death Eater succeeds in raping you? What if you're abducted and we can't get you back? You can't even imagine the horrors they'd put you through. I refuse to stand by while you put yourself at risk again."

"This isn't your call, Malfoy," Moody barked.

"Every precaution will be taken, Draco," Lupin interjected in his calm voice.

No one else spoke. Draco breathed heavily through his nose. "Hermione?"

Her eyes were large as she met Draco's gaze. "I can do it," she whispered, her bottom lip trembling slightly. "I'm not scared."

"Fuck this," he spat, pushing his chair back and rising from his seat. "You deserve whatever the hell happens to you," he sneered before wrenching open the back door and stalking outside.

When Draco returned later that evening, the Burrow was dark and quiet. He was glad not to have to face anyone. While he had never been the kind of person who believed in the innate goodness of mankind, this evening had killed one of his few remaining illusions. He had thought that affection shared between the Weasleys and Potter, and Hermione, would have led them to rise up and protect the bushy-haired girl from Moody's strategies. Instead, they had just sat like mutes and listened while Mad Eye had planned what could easily become Hermione's execution. Draco wanted to lock up the lot of them, including Hermione, for their stupid 'I'm courageous' and 'It's for the good of mankind' attitudes. It was clear that Gryffindors shouldn't be let loose on the world without caretakers.

Climbing the stairs softly so as to avoid waking the house, Draco took a quick shower before heading to his bed in Percy Weasley's old room. The walls were bare and the décor depressing, but since Draco didn't spend much time here, he didn't bother trying to spruce up the space. His practicality, however, left him mildly depressed every time he entered the room.

Sighing deeply, Draco lay in bed and tried to clear his mind. It had been years since he'd slept soundly. He'd started having nightmares while living at the Manor after Voldemort's return. They'd stopped for the most part since he'd joined the Order, but now falling asleep had become a problem. If it weren't such a sign of weakness, Draco would have approached Molly about possible cures for insomnia. Instead, he spent most of his nights tossing and turning in an effort to fall asleep.

As he rolled over to face the wall, Draco heard the door to his room squeak open. He silently drew his wand from beneath his pillow and prepared for an attack. It wasn't until he caught sight of Hermione's reflection in the window as she crawled under his covers that his grip loosened.

He rolled toward her, noting the startled look in her eyes. "Just what the hell are you doing?" he hissed.

"You were upset at dinner," she whispered, reaching out to touch his hand with her fingers.

He jerked his hand away. "I'm _still_ upset," he informed her, his voice cracking slightly. It was hard to stay mad and sound haughty while his body was reacting to the fact that Hermione was in bed with him.

"I'm sorry. I know you spent all afternoon trying to comfort me and then, only a few hours later, I agree to act as bait for Death Eaters again. You must think I'm mad."

Draco's anger returned at her words. "Granger, what I think obviously doesn't matter. I'm not your keeper. If you decide to jump off a bridge, play hide and seek with Voldemort, or fuck Fred Weasley, I will not try to stop you. It's your life. You can throw it away if you wish. Just don't expect me to stand around ready to pick up the pieces when it's all over."

He watched as Hermione blinked her eyes rapidly. It was too dark, however, to determine whether or not she was trying to hold back tears. Draco told himself that he didn't care one way or the other.

"You don't understand," she sniffed.

"I understand enough," he interrupted. "You don't mind coming to me for comfort or to blow off steam, but on the _important issues_ – the life and death issues – I might as well be a first year Hufflepuff for all the consideration you give me."

"Draco, that's not true. Your opinions, your thoughts, mean the world to me."

"It doesn't matter, Granger. By the time you forget me, I shall already have forgotten you. By the time you leave, I'll already be gone. You aren't necessary to my existence."

For several seconds, Hermione did not reply. "I wish," she began, her voice tapering off. She took a deep breath and began again. "I wish I could say the same. Lately, however, everything seems to carry me toward you. It's like not only my happiness, but my very existence, depends on you. Every aroma, every sight, every touch, propels me into your arms. I feel destined to be with you."

He shook his head, before realizing she probably couldn't see him in the dark. "You are emotional because of your scare today. There is no point in discussing this now. Go back to bed and we'll talk tomorrow," he told her gently, all of his anger suddenly gone.

"It started a long time before today," she informed him, reaching out to rest her palm alongside his face. "Today's events simply convinced me that it was time to be open and honest with you. I don't want to wait any longer and risk losing something I never gave a chance."

Draco closed his eyes, letting her voice and her touch wash over him. He refused to think about the implications of her words. He refused to think about how impossible it was for them to be together, for them to be a couple.

Her fingers brushed against his bare arm, over his shoulder, and down his chest, not stopping until her palm rest flat against where his heart was beating wildly. "So soft," she murmured quietly.

Draco couldn't move; he could barely breathe.

"Ask me not to participate in Moody's plan."

For a moment Draco felt a surge of hope. "Promise me you won't listen to Moody. Promise not to put yourself in harm's way again," he begged.

"I can't," she whispered, moving up against him, resting her head on his chest. "But I wish I could. I wish that we could hide ourselves away until this war is over. But that's impossible. Therefore, I will do everything I can to help bring this conflict to a quick end. If that means letting myself be used as bait for Death Eaters, I'm going to do it. Because once it is finished, I hope you will give me a chance to live in your arms."

"Hermione," he groaned, half in despair and half in joy. Slowly, almost against his will, his arms reached out and embraced her. His hands roamed down her back before coming to rest lightly on her hips. "You need to return to your room."

He felt her shake her head. "No," she stated softly. "I want to be with you tonight. I need to be with you. Unless you can convince me you don't feel the same way, I'm not going anywhere."

Draco released a deep breath. Letting Hermione remain with him went against all of his instincts; it went against everything he'd ever been taught about self-preservation. Yet more than anything he wanted her stay. He _needed _her stay. The realization that he could have lost her today and that he still might lose her tomorrow compelled him to wring something good out of every second they had together. "Fine, you can stay," he informed her, his hands tightening unconsciously on her hips. "But I better not find out you snore or hog the bed covers. Otherwise, I'll turn you over to the Dark Lord myself."

Hermione giggled. She then reached up and pulled his head down, brushing her lips across his. "You're unredeemable, Malfoy."

"I know," he replied, nipping her bottom lip, before laving it with his tongue.

She gave a happy sigh and snuggled closer to him. "Thank you for being here for me today."

"I'll be here to comfort and care for you whenever you'll let me," he informed her honestly.

Hermione made a satisfied sound before she mouthed something against his chest. It was too early for 'I love you,' but Draco knew that was what she meant. As he buried his nose in her hair and wrapped his arms more securely around her waist, he hoped she realized that he loved her, too.

The End


End file.
